My Alpha Tortured Me to Bring His Mistress Back

The morning sun filtered through the windows of my prison, casting long shadows across the Luna quarters. I'd barely slept, my body still weak from months of spiritual warfare, my heart shattered by Thatcher's rejection. The door burst open without warning, and two Delta guards entered.

"The Alpha commands your presence," one announced, his eyes carefully avoiding mine.

I straightened my spine, refusing to show weakness. "On what grounds?"

"Pack assembly," the second guard replied, his voice flat. "All members are required to attend."

Something in his tone made my wolf stir uneasily within me. We'd been back in control of our body for less than a day, and already Thatcher was making his move.

The walk to the great hall felt like a march to execution. Pack members lined the corridors, their expressions ranging from pity to morbid curiosity. No one spoke to me—no one dared. I caught glimpses of Lily in the crowd, her face tight with worry, but she was powerless to intervene.

The great hall was filled to capacity, every member of the Moonveil Pack present. At the front stood Thatcher, his Alpha aura pulsing with barely contained rage. Beside him stood a young omega girl—Megan—who had joined our pack only months ago.

"Bring her forward," Thatcher commanded.

The guards escorted me to the center of the hall, where I stood alone before my pack—before my people who had once looked to me as their Luna.

"Members of Moonveil," Thatcher's voice boomed across the silent hall. "Today we witness a transfer of power."

My heart sank as I realized what was happening.

"Ella Hamilton has proven herself unworthy of the Luna title," he continued, each word a dagger to my soul. "She has failed in her duties, failed in her loyalty, and failed as my mate."

The pack's collective gasp rippled through the hall. Some looked shocked, others confused. None dared speak.

"From this moment forward," Thatcher declared, "Megan will assume all ceremonial duties of the Luna position."

Megan stepped forward, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. She was young—too young—and clearly unprepared for such responsibility.

"Thatcher," I whispered, using our private name in public—a desperate appeal to whatever remained of our bond. "Please don't do this."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Address me as Alpha Hamilton."

The formal title cut deeper than any insult. This man who had once loved me since childhood now couldn't bear to hear his name on my lips.

"The transfer is effective immediately," he announced, ignoring my plea. "Ella Hamilton will retain her basic pack privileges, but all Luna responsibilities are hereby revoked."

The ceremony that followed was a blur of humiliation. Megan received the ceremonial Luna pendant—the very one I had worn with such pride since our mating. She took my place beside the Alpha throne, while I was relegated to standing among the regular pack members.

Throughout it all, the pack watched in stunned silence. No one challenged their Alpha's decision. No one defended me.

---

Hours later, still reeling from public disgrace, I found myself dragged into Thatcher's office. The door slammed behind us, and his Alpha aura pressed against me like a physical weight.

"You still haven't brought her back," he snarled, circling me like prey.

"Thatcher, please," I begged, my voice breaking. "Navy's gone. I'm trying to be what you need—"

"What I need is HER!" he roared, grabbing my shoulders. "Navy was everything you pretended to be but never were."

Before I could respond, he shoved me against the wall. His eyes had gone wild, desperate in a way I'd never seen before.

"This will bring her back," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "This will force your wolf to retreat."

I felt his intention before he acted—a marking ceremony, but twisted into something cruel and unnatural.

"Thatcher, don't—" My words cut off as his teeth sank into the existing mate mark on my neck.

Pain exploded through me—not just physical pain, but something deeper, more primal. His Alpha venom flooded the mark, not to strengthen our bond but to burn through it, to scar it from within.

I screamed as my wolf howled in agony. The mate mark—our sacred connection—felt like it was being torn apart from the inside.

"Stop fighting it!" Thatcher growled against my skin. "Let her come back!"

But there was no "her" to come back. Navy was gone, and I was here—the real me, the Ella he had once loved.

The venom continued to burn through my veins as my wolf writhed in torment. I felt her retreating, not because Navy was returning, but because the pain was too great to bear.

"Please," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "You're killing us both."

Thatcher finally pulled away, his eyes wild with disappointment. The mark on my neck pulsed with toxic heat, and I could feel my wolf curling into herself, trying to escape the agony.

"Navy," he whispered, reaching for something that wasn't there. "Come back to me."

But there was only silence—and the sound of my breaking heart.